


Fear of Flying

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Airplanes, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Philosophy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How they learned to travel together and how Mulder learned to trust the spy, just a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear of Flying

The first time on a plane together, Mulder didn’t feel all that bad about Scully’s fear of flying. In fact, he found it rather amusing. He felt no sympathy as he watched her white-knuckle the armrests and hold her breath and he couldn’t help but smirk about it. She could be as cocky as she wanted to be, but it also looked like the spy wasn’t as tough as she pretended to be.

 

It took months of crisscrossing the country together for Mulder to consider there might be value in booking seats together. He always had his own ticket in hand before Scully even knew what their assignment was and he left it up to her to make her own travel arrangements. He was already doing his own expense report, he might as well add her on as well and then they could go over the case if they needed to. The first time he passed a ticket to her with a file, she looked genuinely surprised and a little hesitant. She had no time to question his sudden gesture however since their flight left in a little over an hour.

 

Scully knew it annoyed Mulder that she found the traveling the most difficult part of the job. Not the endless road trips in the middle of nowhere, or the occasional commuter train journey, but the flying. But, truth be told, it wasn’t really the flying, it was the takeoff and the landing and the turbulence. All the rest of it in between and she was fine. Short trips were harder than long ones with hardly any time to adjust to cruising altitude. Puddle jumpers were the absolute worst. Every move the plane made she swore she could feel.

 

It was easier before Mulder started booking them in adjoining seats. In the days when they rarely even happened to be in the same row, she never had to worry abut bothering anyone with her nerves. But with her partner by her side, droning on and on about case material and asking her if the was paying attention, the flights were harder. She tried to keep the tension to herself, but it was hard to do when there were times she could barely hold a file her hands were so stiff and cramped from clutching her armrests.

 

It long stopped being amusing that Scully actually had a weakness and was rather irritating. He wasn’t so much annoyed with her as he was annoyed with himself that he couldn’t seem to manage something as simple as diversion therapy to help her out, but she was also an uncooperative subject. Of course he probably could have told her he was trying to practice a therapeutic technique on her, but she probably would have just refused to allow it or insist she was fine. She was a brilliant and stubborn woman, and the more he got to know her, the more he respected her for both those reasons, but someone that independent was difficult to help.

 

It happened by accident on a flight headed to Sioux City. The plane dropped suddenly while Mulder was fiddling with the button to adjust the recline of his seat and when Scully grabbed for the armrest in panic, she grabbed Mulder’s arm instead, fingers digging into his radius and ulna so tightly, he felt they might crack under the pressure. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and her jaw was clenched as tight as her grip. Embarrassed as she was, she couldn’t let go if she tried.

 

Mulder waited until the seatbelt sign had been turned off again and Scully had released his arm to attempt any conversation with her. “I’d like to help,” he said, bending his neck just a little to see her face.

 

“I’m sorry I grabbed you.”

 

“I can help you.”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m willing to try.”

 

Scully gave him a sharp look and Mulder sat back, knowing he’d went a little too far and offended her. He also knew she wouldn’t hold it against him in the long run. Maybe she didn’t trust him enough, which was fair. The drink cart eventually saved them from the awkward silence that had taken over. Scully got a ginger ale, as usual, and Mulder got a Coke, as usual.

 

“Thrust, lift, weight, gravity,” Scully said, squeezing her half-empty ginger ale can with one hand while the ice melted into the plastic cup in her other hand. Her gaze did not waver from her can, nor did she blink.

 

Mulder slapped the salt of airline peanuts from his hands and inclined his head. “Hm?”

 

“The four principals of flight. I can explain the physics to you in my sleep.”

 

“I’m sure you could.”

 

“Except at the end of the day, I believe that which keeps us in the air is by the grace of God.” Scully took her hand off the soda can and reached up to her necklace, fingering the chain until she found her gold cross charm and rubbed it between her thumb and index finger.

 

The move didn’t go unnoticed by Mulder and he was surprised by the explanation. They hadn’t discussed it that much, but he knew she was a regular church-goer and that necklace had to be of significance if she wore it. Scully was too utilitarian of a person just to wear jewelry for jewelry’s sake, in his estimation.

 

“You have all the faith, but not the trust?” Mulder asked.

 

“Of course I have the trust.”

 

“Then why should you be nervous?”

 

“It’s a reminder that He that giveth can also taketh away.”

 

“That’s a rather Old Testament perspective, isn’t it?”

 

“It’s simply _my_ perspective.”

 

Mulder didn’t want to argue, but his interest was truly piqued. Scully was every bit as enigmatic to him as the theology and philosophy lectures he attended in school. He wanted to know more, but he also didn’t want to press too hard and have her shut down on him, as she was wont to do when things got too personal. They spent so much time together, but he knew so little.

 

“What are your thoughts on free will?” Mulder asked.

 

“I believe in it.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

Scully finally lifted her eyes and glanced at Mulder. “Are you going to ask me if my belief in free will somehow negates the possibility that God is still in control of my Destiny?”

 

“No, but you can answer that if you’d like.”

 

“What do _you_ believe, Mulder? Aside from life on Mars.”

 

“Mars is very specific,” he joked, bumping her shoulder with his own. “I like to keep my options for alien origin open to all galaxies.”

 

Scully smiled a little and took a sip of her ginger ale.

 

“I’m open to a lot of things,” Mulder said. “I just can’t wrap my head around a guy that sits in the sky, causing tidal waves or handing out Superbowl trophies depending on who did or didn’t pray enough that day.”

 

“That’s not very fair.”

 

“And I’m not trying to be flippant,” Mulder continued. “That’s what it boils down to, for me. Plus, I’d like to think that if there was a God, He or She would have enough to worry about with combating evil to drop commuter jets out of the sky for sport.”

 

“Well none of us know God’s plan. Things happen for a reason, even if we don’t know what it is.”

 

“As a scientist, doesn’t that drive you a little bit crazy?”

 

Scully laughed quietly and scratched the rim of her cup with her thumbnail. “A little, maybe.”

 

“Is that why you joined the FBI instead of becoming a doctor? A chance to solve crime since the mysteries of the universe remain locked?”

 

“I thought I could make more of a difference in criminal justice than in a hospital.”

 

“Because working with the living is a little like playing God, isn’t it?”

 

The stewardess interrupted their discussion just then to collect any trash they might have accumulated. Mulder passed over his empty soda can and cup and Scully quickly finished the remainder of her ginger ale before handing it over. She excused herself to use the bathroom after and Mulder got up from the aisle seat to let her pass. When she returned, he was waiting in the aisle, stretching his legs. She buckled herself back into her seat and Mulder sat down as well.

 

“It’s kind of like this,” Scully said. “God creates life. He is in everyone and in everything. What we choose to do with the life He’s given, and if we’ve honored Him in those choices, will reflect back in the end. Sometimes facing mortality is just a reminder that life is precious and a chance to evaluate what you could do better.”

 

Mulder contemplated Scully’s theory while the pilot announced the initial descent into Sioux City and requested that the flight crew prepare for landing. He moved his seat into the upright position before the stewardess came by to ask and adjusted his belt. Scully already had her eyes closed and a firm grip on the armrests.

 

“Here’s the thing, though, Scully,” Mulder said, tapping her on the wrist. Scully jumped and opened her eyes, clutching the armrests a little tighter. “Back when I spent my days profiling, I worked cases that put me in a room with pure evil. So palpable you could feel it in the air. You know the Monte Propps case, right?”

 

Scully nodded.

 

“He killed eleven young men and women, that we know of, in the name of the lord, claiming that they deserved to die for their sins by not being able to prevent him from raping them as that was a sure sign they were not under God’s protection. In his head he was conducting his own version of the Salem witch trials through rape and torture. And let’s not forget dismemberment.”

 

“Monte Propps was crazy, Mulder.”

 

“Of course. And on the flip side, I play basketball with a guy, an atheist, who organizes food drives at his job and volunteers at a soup kitchen four times a week because he can’t stand the thought of someone going hungry.”

 

“Your friend is a good person. What’s your point?”

 

“According to the rule book, if Monte Propps repents for his sins, he’s going to Heaven, but if Rick never accepts Jesus Christ as his lord and savior, he’s shut out of the party. It’s just not an ideology I can agree with. I believe in goodness for goodness sake and yes, Monte Propps was crazy. A paranoid schizophrenic. Mental disorder, not the devil.”

 

Scully’s eyes were wide and she forgot to blink. When she turned away from Mulder, the plane was touching down and she lurched forward as the wheels hit the runway. She hadn’t noticed they were that close to landing. She relaxed a little as they taxied towards the gate.

 

“I do think I agree with you about choices though,” Mulder said, fumbling under the seat in front of him for his briefcase.

 

“How so?”

 

“Our choices will reflect back on us in the end, but only in the memory of the ones we leave behind.”

 

The plane stopped and the cabin was filled with the clicking sound of unlatching seatbelts. Mulder was one of the first out of his seat and Scully grabbed her own briefcase while he brought down their overnight bags from the overhead bin. They made their way off the plane and through the gangway to the terminal. Scully stopped to put her blazer on and Mulder opened his briefcase to find their rental car information.

 

“There’s got to be something we can do,” Mulder said, snapping his briefcase closed.

 

“About what?” Scully asked.

 

“You shouldn’t have your life flash before your eyes every time you get on a plane.”

 

“I never said it did. Don’t worry about it.”

 

“But…I feel…bad…for you.” Mulder stuttered, surprising himself because he did feel truly awful for his partner. That thought alone gave him pause. She was his partner. He wanted to help his partner.

 

“Oh, Mulder…” Scully hesitantly reached out and squeezed Mulder’s arm at the elbow. “You can’t fix everything.”

 

“Maybe on the flight back we can debate the Brady bill and I’ll play the role of the NRA.”

 

Scully laughed and dropped her hand to the handle of her rolling bag. “Come on, Mulder, let’s go pick up the car.”

 

The End


End file.
